He had not left her long, by no means long enough for her to have the slightest inclination for thinking of any body else, when a letter was brought her from Randalls – a very thick letter; – she guessed what it must contain, and deprecated the necessity of reading it. – She was now in perfect charity with Frank Churchill; she wanted no explanations, she wanted only to have her thoughts to herself – and as for understanding any thing he wrote, she was sure she was incapable of it. – It must be waded through, however. She opened the packet; it was too surely so; – a note from Mrs. Weston to herself, ushered in the letter from Frank to Mrs. Weston.
“I have the greatest pleasure, my dear Emma, in forwarding to you the enclosed. I know what thorough justice you will do it, and have scarcely a doubt of its happy effect. – I think we shall never materially disagree about the writer again; but I will not delay you by a long preface. – We are quite well. – This letter has been the cure of all the little nervousness I have been feeling lately. – I did not quite like your looks on Tuesday, but it was an ungenial morning; and though you will never own being affected by weather, I think every body feels a north-east wind. – I felt for your dear father very much in the storm of Tuesday afternoon and yesterday morning, but had the comfort of hearing last night, by Mr. Perry, that it had not made him ill.” Yours ever, “A. W.”
[To Mrs. Weston.]
WINDSOR-JULY.
MY DEAR MADAM,”If I made myself intelligible yesterday, this letter will be expected; but expected or not, I know it will be read with candour and indulgence. – You are all goodness, and I believe there will be need of even all your goodness to allow for some parts of my past conduct. – But I have been forgiven by one who had still more to resent. My courage rises while I write. It is very difficult for the prosperous to be humble. I have
already met with such success in two applications for pardon, that I may be in danger of thinking myself too sure of yours, and of those among your friends who have had any ground of offence. – You must all endea- vour to comprehend the exact nature of my situation when I first arrived at Randalls; you must consider me as having a secret which was to be kept at all hazards. This was the fact. My right to place myself in a situation re- quiring such concealment, is another question. I shall not discuss it here. For my temptation to think it a right, I refer every caviller to a brick house, sashed windows below, and casements above, in Highbury. I dared not address her openly; my difficulties in the then state of Enscombe must be too well known to require definition; and I was fortunate enough to prevail, before we parted at Weymouth, and to induce the most upright female mind in the creation to stoop in charity to a secret engagement. – Had she refused, I should have gone mad. – But you will be ready to say, what was your hope in doing this? – What did you look forward to? – To any thing, every thing – to time, chance, circumstance, slow effects, sudden bursts, perseverance and weariness, health and sickness. Every possibility of good was before me, and the first of blessings secured, in obtaining her promis- es of faith and correspondence. If you need farther explanation, I have the honour, my dear madam, of being your husband’s son, and the advantage of inheriting a disposition to hope for good, which no inheritance of hous- es or lands can ever equal the value of. – See me, then, under these cir- cumstances, arriving on my first visit to Randalls; – and here I am con- scious of wrong, for that visit might have been sooner paid. You will look back and see that I did not come till Miss Fairfax was in Highbury; and as you were the person slighted, you will forgive me instantly; but I must work on my father’s compassion, by reminding him, that so long as I ab- sented myself from his house, so long I lost the blessing of knowing you. My behaviour, during the very happy fortnight which I spent with you, did not, I hope, lay me open to reprehension, excepting on one point. And now I come to the principal, the only important part of my conduct while be- longing to you, which excites my own anxiety, or requires very solicitous explanation. With the greatest respect, and the warmest friendship, do I mention Miss Woodhouse; my father perhaps will think I ought to add, with the deepest humiliation. – A few words which dropped from him yesterday spoke his opinion, and some censure I acknowledge myself lia- ble to. – My behaviour to Miss Woodhouse indicated, I believe, more than